Stone Circle I'm setting fire to my lungs

It wasn't long before someone came to meet him. Ira stuck Ephraim immediately as an ideal Dragedan warrior: intimidatingly tall, trim with lean muscle, a little robust in the face despite her thin limbs, and full of confidence. In comparison, he was not only tiny, but anxious and frightened before her arrival. Even before she began to speak, Ephraim shrunk downward, letting his tall ears fall shyly back.

Easthollow. The name of the pack didn't jog his memory. He recalled only snatches of his early childhood, nothing more distinct than distant familiarity when he encountered something from that time, and almost everything between leaving Ankyra Sound and going to Hougeda with Heda and her children was blacked out. That included their unsuccessful attempt to find safety with this pack. Sharp words might have met Ira if he could remember even the faintest thing, for that had been the catalyst of everything that followed, but he couldn't.

I... he faltered, licked his lips nervously, and said, I need a home.